


A Secret For The Mad

by Cat (ActualBuckyBarnes)



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Anxiety, But He's In Here Too, Dodie Clark Songfic, Fluff, I Can't Get Over The Fact That I Don't Know His Last Name, I Have An All Caps Account For Tyler, Jack Need A Hug, Like I Wrote It And I Can't Tell If They're Gay Or Not, Mark Is A Bean, One-Shot, Suicide Attempt, What The F uck, What the Hell, Why The Fuck Don't I Know Tyler's Last Name, With A Hero Complex™, Y'ALL SOMEONE TOLD ME TYLER'S LAST NAME, i love writing it, okay but someone tell me an Ethan and Tyler's friendship isn't gr8, pretty close to canon, sorta?, thank jesus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9513815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActualBuckyBarnes/pseuds/Cat
Summary: "I'm okay," Jack said while his mind screamed otherwise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This episode on: Cat Tries To Mix Her Coping Mechanism And Sad Songs And It Does Not Go Well™

* * *

_"I've got a secret for the mad. In a little bit of time it won't hurt so bad."_

* * *

"I'm okay," Jack said while his mind screamed otherwise.

"You sure?" Mark asked, "I--I really just don't want to find you like I did last time--"

"Trust me," Jack smiled sweetly, "You won't."

Sweet smiles on Jack's face were like sunsets. Sweet and slow, but fleeting and almost false.

"Okay," Mark breathed, drawing Jack in for a hug and threading his fingers through the other man's hair, "If you're not, _please_ tell me. I'm here to listen."

Jack tugged on his sleeve, not really giving an answer. He wrapped his arms around Mark's torso hesitantly--it had been so long since he'd gotten a hug. He buried his face in the crook of Mark's neck. He mumbled something close to a 'thank you' into Mark's skin, standing there in the crowded airport with the material of Mark's t-shirt against his face.

The moment, though it was surrounded by chaos, was peaceful. It stilled Jack's heart, which usually ran at a too-fast pace, pulling his anxiety with it. It felt like a weight lifted off his shoulder.

Mark pulled away. "Should we go?"

Jack just grinned--a real one this time--and trailed after Mark, dragging his suitcase behind him.

* * *

_"I promise you, it'll all make sense again."_

* * *

Mark's house was nice. Much nicer than Jack was used to--Jack was almost afraid to sit down for fear of getting dirt on Mark's sofa.

Mark let out a chuckle, oblivious to Jack's troubles. "I got bored on Saturday and cleaned the entire apartment," He explained, as if it made Jack any less uncomfortable.

"You want something to eat?" Mark asked, "We've got some leftover chicken to make tacos, uh--we've got some cereal, I guess? Man, I need to restock the fridge."

Now, Jack really felt like he was intruding. He really wasn't in the mood for food. Anxiety was like that, it made you want to run everywhere and hide from everything at the same time.

"You okay?" Mark frowned, casting a glance over to Jack. Before Jack could answer, Tyler and Ethan poked their heads into the living room.

"Look what the cat dragged in!" Ethan crowed, hugging Jack, "It's Pewdiepie!"

Jack let out a nervous laugh, hugging back. Tyler just gave Jack a grin, clapping him on the back.

"Hi," Jack said, stepping back from the hug. Mark sent him another concerned glance. Jack hid his anxiousness deep in his chest and stood up straighter, grinned bigger, and spoke louder.

"Where's Chica? We all know she's th' only reason I came," Jack joked.

"I'll go get her," Tyler volunteered.

"Your attachment to Mark's dog is unhealthy!" Ethan yelled after him.

"So's yours!" Tyler yelled back. The sound of a dog whining and then nails clacking on the hardwood floor and Chica bounded into the room, a blur of yellow-white fur.

"Hey!" Mark cooed as Chica jumped up onto Mark's side. Mark knelt down and hugged his pet. "You're a good girl, Chica."

"I feel left out," Jack pouted, jokingly.

"Chica, attack!" Mark commanded, gesturing to Jack. Ethan joined in, saying, "Chica, kill!"

Jack chuckled as Chica made her way to him, sniffing him.

"Yeah, he smells like potatoes and leprechauns, now sic 'im!" Mark encouraged. Chica licked Jack's leg.

Jack's laugh was genuine-sounding--something he pegged down to years of practice.

He really wished he had the courage to say he wasn't okay again.

Nothing was funny--words got caught in his throat and the ones from others hurt his ears. He wanted to go somewhere quiet and never leave.

But he didn't want to burden Mark. After all, he was staying in the man's house while he visited America--not that this was just a visit. YouTube ad rev had been slipping away, slowly, until he couldn't pay rent for his apartment. He'd had a breakdown, after all, and the new algorithm didn't really promote watching someone's video more than once. So, when the prerecorded videos stopped being enough, and Jack could barely breathe for having panic attacks, he'd Skyped with Mark.

And Mark had seen the bags under his eyes, the way his hands trembled, the way his chest stuttered, and immediately told him to fly over to America. Jack supposed it had been good timing, he'd been able to sell most of the stuff he didn't want to bring over to America, he had a few bucks for when Mark inevitably asked him to leave and he had a suitcase full of clothes and trinkets.

Chica was soft. Jack liked it. It pulled him from his thoughts.

"Y'are a good girl, aren't'ya?" Jack smiled at the golden retriever.

"Well, I've got a date to go to," Ethan hinted.

"No you don't," Tyler rolled his eyes, doing a double take when Ethan didn't say anything. "Really?!"

"Yep," Ethan smirked, "Met her at the grocery store last time I went."

"Speaking of grocery stores," Mark interrupted, "Tyler, you wouldn't mind going, would you? I'll help Jack settle in while you're out."

Jack's mouth was shut like a vice--no matter how much he wanted to, he definitely wouldn't be able to say anything about the conversation.

"Sure, Mark," Tyler shrugged, "Let's go, Ethan."

"You are _not_ driving me to the date--" Ethan protested, "I am not a teenager!"

"You'll always be my little boy--wait," Tyler tried to joke, then realizing what it sounded like and wishing he could take it back. Mark and Ethan lost it, and Jack chuckled, sat on the ground next to Chica.

"Let's just go," Tyler grumbled.

"Yes, _daddy_ ," Ethan said through tears of laughter. Jack let out a louder laugh at that one, and Tyler turned so red he looked like Mark's old hair.

"Shut up," Tyler said, storming out the door.

"Only for you," Ethan yelled, hurrying out after the other man.

"I hate you both!" Tyler declared as Ethan shut the front door behind them.

"You don't look okay," Mark said as soon as the other two were gone, "What's up?"

"I just..." Jack sighed, "I don't know. It's the anxiety thing."

"Okay," Mark said softly, "It's okay. Remember, you're safe."

"I know," Jack frowned, running his fingers through Chica's fur, "But sometimes I get caught up in th' moment, and there's no time to think about it, and then I can't speak and my chest doesn't work right--"

Mark sat down close to Jack and pressed himself into Jack's side. Jack calmed down at Mark's touch. It was nice.

"When that happens, signal me, or something," Mark suggested, "It can be like out super-secret-ninja-code, or something."

"What are we, nine?" Jack laughed.

"Well, apparently I'm seven," Mark grinned, making Jack laugh harder, "And hey, if it works, it works, man."

"Thanks," Jack said, more clearly this time than at the airport.

"You're welcome," Mark's smile softened. "D'you want to tell Tyler and Ethan, or Amy and Kathrine, or--"

"Maybe," Jack sighed. "Maybe."

"It's okay," Mark said, "I don't know how to fix this, and it's frustrating, but I'll help you."

 _There it was_ , Jack smiled inwardly, _There's Mark's hero complex. Haven't seen it in a while._

"You might not be _able_ to," Jack said glumly, "I might be the kind of broken that can't be fixed."

"Everybody's got their own demons," Mark replied, a surprising fire behind his words, "Nobody's broken beyond fixing."

Jack's smile turned from grateful to sad. "There are exceptions."

"Nonsense," Mark replied, tugging Jack closer into his side. "You'll be okay."

"I'm not so sure."

* * *

_"There are a hundred people who'll listen to you cry."_

* * *

Jack's stomach writhed. He was supposed to be sleeping. Though panic attacks had grown rare at Mark's, he'd been staying there for a little over a week. He still hadn't told Ethan or Tyler or Kathrine or Amy about his anxiety, though they were starting to sense something was off.

Jack stared at the ceiling, feeling turmoil chase his insides. Mark was bound to ask him to leave at some point, and then where would he be? What would he do when Mark's seemingly endless charity and patience ran out?

 _This is bullshit_ , Jack decided, _If I want to know, I'll just ask him._

He threw off the covers and marched over to Mark's room, determined to fight against his anxiety. He got two knocks out before the panic hit him full force, making his chest shake. What if he'd accidentally knocked on the wrong door and Kathrine answered instead of Mark? What if Mark yelled at him for waking him up at--what time was it? Four in the morning, oh God.

"Hello?" Mark's grumbling snapped Jack out of his thoughts.

"Hi--yes--sorry," Jack sputtered, turning away to race back to his room. Mark caught his shoulder, though, and turned him around.

"Listen, you'd better spill whatever it was you wanted to say," Mark said, "You woke me up at four in the morning. I get up in three hours."

"I'm so sorry," Jack squeaked. Mark's face fell.

"No, I am," Mark apologized, moving his hand down to Jack's and squeezing it, "I'm a fuckin' idiot."

Jack was nearly speechless. The panic that raced through his bones left him light-headed.

"I'm afraid," Jack whispered, a sound that was nearly inaudible.

"Of what?" Mark asked, stepping out into the hallway and getting _too close_ to Jack.

"Sorry, I just," Jack gasped, "Can you step back a bit?"

"'Course," Mark nodded, giving Jack his space. Jack tried to breathe. _In for four, out for seven_ , Jack thought.

"Okay, okay, I'm fine," Jack breathed, "I'm afraid that you'll ask me to leave. I don't have enough money to buy an apartment or anything because..." Jack sucked in another breath, fighting back panic, "I kept having panic attacks during recordings. I couldn't get through one without having to stop for ten minutes or more to wait for the anxiety to pass, and afterwards, I was always exhausted."

"Jack..." Mark sighed, giving the other man a look of pity. Jack realized that he hadn't told Mark why he came in the first place.

"I had a complete fuckin' breakdown," Jack admitted, "I couldn't stop thinking about whether or not I was being funny, about how I looked--"

"It's okay," Mark said, "We all have times like that."

"Do you see what I meant, the other day?" Jack mumbled, "I'm broken. I broke. Nothin' happened, I just... burned out."

"It's _okay_ ," Mark repeated, "I'm here for you no matter what. And I can tell you that everyone else, here and online, is too."

Jack murmured another 'thank you' as the panic ceased and a weight was lifted off his chest.

"I feel a lot better," Jack smiled, hugging Mark tightly. Mark hugged back just as tightly. Jack's panic was finicky--he hated it for that. One minute, every touch felt like a scream, and the next, Jack felt so alone that every touch felt like heaven.  


"Thank you for telling me," Mark praised, resting his head on Jack's shoulder, "I really appreciate it."

Jack hated being melodramatic, or really touchy-feely, normally. It was a huge trigger for his anxiety, but he couldn't help the tears that sprung to his eyes at Mark's words.

"It... means a lot to me," Jack whispered into Mark's hair, "That you didn't question it."

They stood like that for a while, Jack's breathing returning to normal. Mark just said reassuring things to him, wrapping him in a warmth Jack didn't realize he'd longed for.

Mark broke off the hug when Jack yawned.

"Time for bed." Mark directed Jack back to the guest room, even tucking him in. Jack was completely exhausted--although, that was nothing new. Jack was always tired after panic attacks.

"G'night," Jack yawned again, feeling almost content in the warmth of his blankets.

"Any time," Mark smiled. He closed the door behind himself as he went back to his own bed.

Jack's eyes closed, and the world slipped from underneath him as sleep overtook him.

* * *

_"There's nothing to do right now but try."_

* * *

Sunlight streamed into Jack's room when he opened his eyes. He stretched out, padding down the stairs and into the kitchen to Ethan wearing a ' _Kiss The Cook!_ ' apron.

"The last time I wore this, Mark was so tired that he actually tried to kiss me," Ethan warned, "So just informing you; I'm wearing it ironically."

Jack raised his hands in mock surrender, sitting down at Mark's couch and gazing up at the ceiling before turning his phone on for the first time in a week. It laid on his chest for a while, buzzing off the hook. He opened it (the time read _11:30_ , so at least he'd gotten some sleep), and the first thing he noticed were the texts from his friends.

_Felix: hey, man, u ok? u havent been answering my texts_

_PJ: where have you been? i asked you five days ago if you wanted to be in one of my short films and you never answered._

Jack couldn't read any more texts without breaking down, so he did what he usually did: he shut down. He numbly dismissed the notifications from concerned people with Twitter, he didn't even bother with his ask box in Tumblr, he spent so long considering his Instagram before turning off his phone and staring blankly at the TV.

"Y'know, it's usually more entertaining when there's something on it," Ethan frowned, sitting down in a chair next to the couch Jack had situated himself on. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah," Jack mumbled, "Jus' thinkin'."

"You're awful quiet," Ethan noted, "You sure you're okay?"

Jack's patience was running thin. For some reason, anxiety made it really hard to deal with people. Even Mark, who Jack could've probably stood for weeks at a time, was annoying at times. 

"Yes," Jack said, a bit too snappishly. Ethan sent him a reproachful look.

"You didn't have to be rude," Ethan muttered, "'m tyin' t' be nice."

"Sorry," Jack winced, "I just don't really feel comfortable opening up."

"Nobody does," Ethan reasoned, "But either you tell me now, or I'll find you tomorrow fondling a small whale and scarring my brain forever."

"That's quite a logical leap," Jack chuckled. There was silence for a while, and then, "I had a meltdown. If that's what you'd call it. Just complete burnout. Every time I turned on a camera, I'd ask myself if I was being funny, if I looked good enough, if I was being annoying, and suddenly what I used to love wasn't that fun."

Ethan was silent.

"Then, ad rev started runnin' thin, and suddenly I couldn't pay fer my house anymore." Jack's accent grew thicker as words started running from his mouth, "And I Skyped with Mark, and he told me to hop on the soonest plane here and I," _Shut up, shut up, shut up,_ Jack's mind chanted, "Feel so _alone_ , even though Mark says I'm not, and I believe him, I really do, I just--"

It was then that Jack's mouth caught up to his brain, and it snapped shut.

Ethan stayed quiet, almost as if he were pondering something. The silence that filled the room was deafening.

"I'm glad you told me," Ethan said, slowly and carefully, as if he were afraid of messing up, "I am not mad, in fact, I'm glad you don't have a secret whale fetish," Jack let out a snort at that, "I hope you find peace, and I'm always around if you need someone to talk to."

"Doesn't make it any easier," Jack grumbled, "My brain won't stop tellin' me tha' ya don't want to hear me ramble about nothing."

"But I _do_ ," Ethan grinned, "Those are my favorite conversations. The ones about nothing. I'm not good with words anyway, so talking about nothing in particular is really... rad." As if to prove his point, Ethan had to think for a while to come up with a word that was good enough for the conversation. Then he gave up.

Jack chuckled a bit. "I'm havin' trouble gettin' through my phone. It's been a week since I checked, and I have so many notifications."

"Let me see," Ethan offered. Jack passed over his phone hesitantly.

When he had it handed back, there were no notifications on the screen. He opened his Twitter to see a new Tweet at the top of his thread.

_**@jacksepticeye: Crinklegrumpz here, Jack got #hacked and I am here to tell you that he is fine, but he's taking a bit of a break and will be back soon.** _  


"Thanks," Jack smiled genuinely. Then, a while later. "Most of these responses are asking who you are."

"Fucking--" Ethan groaned, and Jack was suddenly grinning something much closer to what Ethan was used to. Jack from his videos, all loud-mouthed and energetic.

"What are you two up to?" Mark asked, wiggling his eyebrows and sitting down.

"Well, Jack told me about why he came here," Ethan said, sending Mark a meaningful glance. This was what Jack _hated_ about telling people his problems; they talked about it to other people, and especially when Jack was in the room, they treated it like it was top-secret or like they needed to tread around it.

"I told you about my anxiety," Jack interjected, "Not necessarily my reason for coming here, but one of the factors in why I chose to come here."

Ethan and Mark blinked at him. "O-okay," Mark stuttered. Jack held his gaze, mood snapping back to sullen silence.

It seemed that neither of them knew quite what to say, but Jack's mind didn't read it like that. He suddenly wanted to disappear.

"Goodbye," Jack huffed, marching to his room. He didn't see the worried glance Mark sent Ethan, and he didn't see Ethan's panicked look back.

* * *

_"You're at the bottom, this is it."_

* * *

It seemed as though the night spoke to Jack. " _Join me_ ," It said, " _You can do it. You're strong enough. They hate you anyway, it's not like they'll miss you._ "

Jack found himself wandering around, down to the kitchen, and there it was. Almost perfect. A small knife, almost a dagger, sitting on the counter.

A surge of emotion filled his chest. Sure, they'd lent him their home, but Jack was a burden. That's it. He was certain. His chest started heaving as his fingers closed around the handle of the knife, which gleamed in the moonlight.

* * *

_"Just get through, and you will be fixed."_

* * *

It was Amy who found him at 3 in the morning, clutching that knife. She let out a little scream, chest heaving.

It woke the rest of the house, Mark and Chica padding down curiously first, then rushing to Jack's side. Then Tyler, Kathrine, and Ethan.

Mark and Tyler wrestled the knife out of Jack's hands, but Jack didn't notice. He'd gone into shutdown mode again, his mind working in overtime but his limbs not quite responding.

"Jack? Jack, say something," Kathrine begged, "Can you hear me?"

"Ethan, go get the first aid kit," Amy directed, "Jack, please say something."

"Something," Jack said, a small laugh bubbling from his lips. Mark cast him a concerned glance. Now that Jack thought about it, everybody was sending him a concerned glance, as if he were crazy.

"Will it need stitches?" Tyler asked.

"Don't think so," Kathrine noticed, examining Jack's arm. Jack felt like a child, surrounded by people standing around him while he was sat on the floor.

"Jack," Mark said, crouching down in front of Jack, "How do I respond to this? How do I make it better?"

Jack just smiled sadly. "I don't think ya can. We already covered this, Markimoo."

Mark winced at the use of his nickname.

Jack hissed as peroxide came into contact with his arm, which seemed to be slowly leaking blood.

"Stop that," Ethan interjected, sitting cross-legged next to Jack, "I'll tell you something; I've got really bad ADHD. I've always had it, and I always will. But I've made it so far, haven't I?"

"But this isn't something I've always had, it's something new," Jack pointed out, surprised that his lips still worked, "It follows me everywhere, when I talk to people, when I try to make videos--"

"Listen, man, we won't make you do anything you don't want to, but try to talk to us, okay?" Tyler said, washing off the knife with a rather disgusted look on his face. Jack was sure it was directed at him.

"I know I won't understand it," Ethan murmured, "I can't even come close to understanding. But I want to help you. We all do."

"'M sorry." Jack suddenly felt as though he'd been doused in warm water. Amy was silently wrapping his arm in cotton. Kathrine had excused herself, but Jack could vaguely hear her sobs through the walls. "'M sorry I hurt you guys. You don't deserve it."

"And you do?" Mark asked, moving so that he was sat opposite to Ethan, though Jack could recognize the sneaky maneuver to keep him in check. Tyler, finished washing the knife, sat down at Jack's feet.

"Yes," Jack muttered, angry at himself. Angry at how _they_ couldn't see it. Someone had flipped a switch in him, and now he could see nothing but red.

"Please, talk to someone," Mark begged, "If not me, or Ethan, or Tyler, or either of the ladies, go talk to a therapist."

"'Can't afford one," Jack sighed, drawing his knees into his chest.

"Then I'll pay for it," Mark said.

"I can't... they've got to be so expensive, and you're already letting me stay in your house..." Jack whispered, voice eerily quiet.

Mark looked as though he were thinking for a while, then, "I love you. You know that, right? Jack, you're my best friend, and I love you."

Jack was taken aback as Mark wrapped his arms around him. It was _too much_ and not enough at the same time, and Jack was overwhelmed, but he was too polite to pull away. He was too tired, really.

Jack was shaking. That's all Mark could really tell, but Mark was starting to know Jack. Mark was really starting to learn his ins and outs.

"I'm sorry," Mark apologized, breaking the hug and watching as Jack tried to catch his breath. "If I ever do something that makes you uncomfortable in any way, whatsoever, tell me. I'll stop."

Jack could've wept. But he didn't like crying in front of people.

Then again, there was a first time for everything.

Jack probably looked like a baby, sobbing on the floor in front of four of his best friends (Amy was quiet, and Kathrine hadn't returned from her room yet).

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Mark said in a soft voice, "You'll be okay."

Jack really wanted that hug now. He didn't ask, though.

"It's time for everyone here to go to bed, I think," Tyler decided, "Mark, if you want to stay down here with him, that'd be great. Everyone else, give the man his space."

Jack could've kissed Tyler for making that decision. The other man herded Ethan and Amy away, all three of them solemnly silent.

"Please don't do that to any of us, ever again," Mark said quietly, "We'd miss you too much."

Jack wiped his face off with his hands. "Really?"

"Of course," Mark nodded, "Can I hug you?"

Jack nodded, grateful when Mark enveloped him in warmth. Jack was grateful that Mark understood that his anxiety came and went, that Mark understood to ask for hugs.

"I really did mean it," Mark ran his fingers through Jack's hair, "When I said I loved you. Everyone else here does, too. You're an important part of our lives, and we'd all be so sad if you left."

Jack relaxed into Mark's form. Mark was warm.

"Thank you," Jack said, "Really. Thank you so, _so much_."

"Promise me that if you ever want to... to kill yourself," Mark seemed to have trouble getting the words out, "That you'll tell one of us. That you'll tell somebody."

"I promise," Jack said genuinely. He meant it--for once, he did mean it. He was surprised that it had taken him so long to see that Tyler's disgust was directed at the blood on the knife, and not at Jack, that Ethan's attempt at relating to him was him trying his best, that Kathrine's tears were real.

"I'm not mad at you--" Mark started to say, but Jack cut him off.

"I know," Jack nodded, "I feel okay now. I might not, sometimes, but I do right now."

"Good," Mark smiled, "You wanna go to bed, now?"

"Can I--uh--can I sleep with you tonight?" Jack asked.

"'Course," Mark nodded, leading Jack to his room. Chica trotted after them, after having sat in the kitchen, looking concerned as to why everybody was congregating in one place so suddenly.

"Nobody's gonna treat me different now, right?" Jack asked, feeling--once again--like a child.

"I wish I could say no," Mark sighed, "But when you... tonight, all of us lost our trust in you to be by yourself. We all lost our trust that, when you say you're okay, you really are. Don't get me wrong, we still love you. We just don't trust a man who tried to kill himself five hours after telling us that he was fine."

Jack blinked. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," Mark reassured, "It's not your fault. It's nobody's fault."

 _Lies_. It _was_ Jack's fault, somehow--Jack was _sure_ of it. Then again, he'd been sure that Tyler had been disgusted in him, that Mark wanted him out of the house, that Kathrine had been crying crocodile tears--

"Okay," Jack shrugged, settling down under the covers.

"You don't want another shirt?" Mark asked, "You've got blood all over yours."

"No, thanks." Jack didn't want to get up. He was so cold.

"Alright," Mark nodded, slipping under his blankets too. His hand found its way to Jack's, fingers intertwining. Mark really was one for physical affection, Jack found. Hugs--lots of hugs--and hand holding and cheek kisses. He was even more so with Amy, even if they didn't usually share a bed.

Questions picked at Jack's mind. Not like they had before, overpowering and sure, but they were still annoying. They wheedled at Jack's thoughts, asking whether Jack should've finished the job.

"Would you really miss me?" He found himself asking. Sleep pricked at the corners of his eyes, and he felt warm, starkly contrasting against the kitchen tile and the steel of the knife from a few moments ago.

"Yes," Mark replied. It sounded genuine, but Jack remembered how easy it was to sound genuine.

"Why?"

"Your laugh," Mark said, smiling in the darkness, "It's so _great_." As incredible as the man's hugs were, he'd never be very good at words, "It could make flowers grow, I swear. And you're so kind, it's impeccable."

"Says you," Jack grumbled. Mark tugged Jack closer, hugging himself to the shorter man.

"Yes, says I," Mark rolled his eyes, "And you're smart, and your accent's hypnotic. If I were anything other than mostly straight, I'd be head-over-heels for you."

"Mostly?"

"You're lying if you say you wouldn't bang Chris Evans," Mark explained. Jack made a noise of assent.

"Back to you, though," Mark laughed, "Your eyes are amazing. They look blue in the light and grey in shadow, and it's almost like they change _color_. You're so unapologetically you that it's amazing to watch. You're not afraid to be heard, and you're not afraid to speak your mind, and that's just so _incredible_."

"Thank you," Jack murmured, turning around to face Mark and drawing him in for a deep hug.

"Now, let's get this platonic bed-sharing experience on the road," Mark giggled, "Go the fuck to sleep."

A yawn escaped Jack's mouth, as if on command, and his eyes slipped shut with the feeling of Mark's breath on his neck and arms wrapped around his abdomen.

* * *

_"And I get that they don't get it, but they love you so much that you won't regret it."_

* * *

Mark was right--nobody treated Jack the same. They tiptoed around him, as if they were afraid of breaking him.

It was going to drive him insane.

But then again, he supposed he deserved it. He deserved the reluctance to leave him alone, the hesitance to let him near sharp objects, the general vigilance around him. Even Chica seemed to understand that Jack wasn't doing well, as she tended to leave the group to sit by Jack whenever the opportunity arose.

* * *

_"And there will be a day when you can say you're okay and mean it."_  


* * *

"I'm okay," Jack said, one day. It was some time later, and the thought randomly struck him as he was scrolling through Twitter.

"I'm _okay_ ," He repeated, more to himself than anybody. "Mark, I feel okay."

Mark sent him a sideways glance. "Really, now?"

A bemused smile curled its way onto Mark's face. It was just them and Chica, after all. Ethan and Tyler were out doing... something, Jack wasn't quite sure what, and Kat and Amy were out having a girl's night.

"Mark, I haven't had a panic attack in three weeks," Jack beamed. Mark chuckled at Jack's happiness, but grinned back just as brightly.

"I'm so proud of you," Mark said, wrapping Jack in a hug. Chica's cold nose sniffed along Jack's ankle, then his leg.

"Mark, your dog's fondling me," Jack laughed. Chica's eyes--which looked tired, even for a six-year-old dog--met Jack's, and suddenly his face was being covered in dog slobber.

"Ugh!" Jack cried out. Mark cackled from his chair, and Chica's tail was wagging so hard it made a loud _'twack!'_ every time it hit the coffee table.

"She _loves_ you!" Mark cried through tears of laughter. Ethan and Tyler burst into the living room, holding bags of--apparently splurged-upon--clothes and trinkets.

"Is Chica attacking our new housemate?" Tyler inquired, setting his bags down on the floor. Chica bounded over, stopping her assault on Jack's face.

"Yes!" Jack exclaimed as Mark, Ethan, and Tyler continued to laugh at his misfortune.

And it struck Jack again. He was louder again, his smiles weren't faked or forced. It seemed as though everything made sense again. He knew exactly what he wanted to do.

He was recording. Two videos a day, like clockwork. Everybody moved on from "Jack's Break From The Internet", as he called it. It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't exactly a lie, either.

But Jack wanted to tell them the whole truth. He wanted to tell them everything, the whole story of how he wound up in America, with his best friends at his side.

Pride swelled in his chest as he sat down in the swivel-y chair in Mark's office. It had become his office now, too, and though people had noticed, nobody really cared. Which was new.

Soon, there was a new video on Jack's channel. It was titled "Talk To Someone", and it started with Jack not doing his usual intro. Which, again, was new. But not necessarily unwelcome.

"Hi, everyone," Jack smiled, "I'm sorry fer not doin' th' whole 'wapish!' thing, but this's gonna be a more serious video. I hope you guys can understand."

And Jack told the whole story. All of it: staying at Mark's, laying in bed for days at a time, not being able to talk, the panic attacks, the suicide attempt.

"The one thing I want to leave with you guys," Jack didn't remember exactly when he'd started crying, but he definitely was now, "Is that there is always someone who's willing to listen, and there will come a time when you can say you're okay, and mean it with every fiber of yer being. For me, that day was two hours ago. And if you're feelin' low, I've got some helpful links in the description, including a link to donate to the suicide prevention hotline. Now, do me a favor and punch that subscribe button in the face! Like a boss! High-fives all 'round!"

Mark was crying too. Well, not that that was such an accomplishment (Mark was a pretty weepy guy), but so was Tyler. And Amy. PJ actually Skyped Jack to tell him how proud everybody back home was.

Jack knew that anxiety wouldn't... go away forever. It would come back. There would be days when Jack could barely talk to people, or when he couldn't stand Mark hugging him from behind as he cooked lunch or Kathrine casually laying her head on his lap as they watched a movie. But those days would be few and far between. And he'd have people to talk to. And he'd be okay, and it'd all make sense again soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Can you believe I still haven't dropped the 30,000 word fnaf au fic I started working on two months ago? Because oh boy, if you were wondering where I went, well. That's where. Anyway, this was based off the Dodie Clark song "[Secret For The Mad](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FfVIMfSGBhw)"
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](http://tofu-pofu.tumblr.com/), as always. I hope you have a good week, my lovelies, and remember, every kudos and comment is appreciated beyond belief!


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